Hues Of Old
by deathly-smirk
Summary: Godric is about to commit suicide. His memories are a work of wonder, contain nameless victims. Fate gave one of them an identity, but what does this mean in the end for Godric? Is forgiveness needed?
1. Chapter 1

Even as a Roman adolescent he loved the spilling of blood. The taste of the sweet nectar never passed his lips as a mortal but the mere sight of it had set his senses on fire. He'd watched as those who dared to take it, spill it or even use it were worshipped as gods in many forms.

No more so than a savage gladiator.

God yes.

Godric stared at the creeping sun.

Gladiators were revered by all those he knew, their courage, their ferocity, skills..

A memory flew in silently.

Roars of a half-crazed crowd, the howls of falling gladiators, the clanging of swords all filled his ears, but the vampire did not flinch even once. The memory did not frighten him nor made him reminiscence.

What good would that have done?

Here he stood, a vampire so old, memories such as the one he's just experienced no longer contained details but foreign and buried sentiments.

What could he have done if he could not remember why his actions were as such?

Godric blinked slowly as his eyes saw colours of a distant land. The land of the living.

Perhaps, he should have felt something other than relief. The sun that was rising to meet him meant he was not crazy.

It brought life.

It meant that Roman Godric in his vampire self was not wrong. All these years that he saw things they were just different. Everything could exist in paradox, after all did not the presence of the weeping Sookie tell him thus?

Blood and death, blood and life, the sun and life, the sun and his death it was all possible. It was like an improbable miracle. Even with all that he had seen how could he have hoped to understand this? He couldn't. Somewhere though this message had awakened inside him and here he stood burning to death.

Godric would have laughed for the sheer power of melodramatic tragedy his moments had become but he suppressed it. What was the little echo of sadness compared to the insanity of euphoria? A little price to pay.

The flames rose higher upon the skin.  
>Every inch that flayed away took a decade of whispered tales with it.<p>

He didn't mind even if he did care.  
>For he, Godric, he was graced by staring at the face of God.<br>After all, wouldn't his naive self ripped Sookie to test the faery part of her coursing in her veins?  
>Yes he would have.<p>

But now..he knew better.  
>He'd seen the mercy of God before him..he was seeing for the very first time. Something that he knew his younger counterparts could not fathom. They couldn't see through the familiarity of this world, the wrong emotions the increased temptations from their old lives. They were stuck here.<p>

Godric closed his eyes slowly, something twinging at his heart.

_Poor Eric.  
><em>His poor, poor Eric.

_'If only I taught you to accept your existence beyond your means.'_

The jaw tightened.

_'You will come when you are ready child. You will also see.'  
><em>This world..it stopped them. From true salvation. No, they didn't belong here - they should have never have been here.

But yes, they were here.

And yes, they had stopped others.

They the vampires, always interfering, always spreading hate and opening poison into the waters of life. Always taking life, chances..

Godric himself had done this.

This time the memories came with deafening sound as though his senses were heightened beyond comprehension - the faces, the fear..their terror. He remembered it all. He drank it all.

Slowly, he opened his eyes as though questioning the higher authority. Was he now being punished.

No he couldn't be.

Look how the flames had turned that stark blue!

The same blue as..her eyes.

A ghost of a smile appeared as his arms flung open as to embrace her from the past.

How fitting was this, that he should remember her in the end?

And burn in her fire.

As he rose higher, his memories did not fail him.

* * *

><p><em>{After the fall of the Roman Empire, somewhere in the Dark Ages}<br>_

Somewhere between the centuries Godric liked to think he'd lost track of his age for shallow purposes. After all, who was counting at all? Except Eric of course. But then again, his need to remind Godric was stemed in the maker-worship ritual. The quirk did not particularly annoy him but it reminded him of the little advancement of the vampire kind.

They may have been the predators of the human species still, but the vampires could no longer predict where the humans would retreat to. There were new tricks being invented, (and this was) one of the reasons Godric told himself that he had allowed Eric the freedom to explore the untouched lands for a while. His training may not have been complete..but the maker knew that Eric's instincts were far better than some of the older vampires in the community. Of course, now that Eric was gone..he'd found himself with some free time on his hands. The idea of another progeny whilst the blonde Viking vampire was gone; was absent fleeting, as conflict in his presence was even though amusing would grow tiresome.

No.

Godric thought to return to the battlefield.

The one place that he dreamt of dying..the one place honor was a permanent guest. There had been little action so to speak, in his human days. Instead, he was asked to prance around in purple robes expected to give a fuck about diseased commoners. Although the notion of telling them all that nobody in the villas knew nor cared of the mundane 'issues' they had - Godric was expected like a good Roman boy expected to deceive.

So he did.

But now..there was no one, no one to orate at him for his yearning. He had admittedly snatched at the chances of a good war over the years, but the hunger, to return was stronger than ever.

He had convinced himself that the longer he waited the more delicious would the victory would taste.

The trick was to subdue yourself long enough so when the heat of battle touched you the senses would send the warrior half-mad with blood-lust. It was simply heavenly. Godric had been known to rip through entire legions on his own, only slowing to pick out the parts of bone, hair and even occasionally teeth from his mouth. Less than elegant, but the gods of warfare didn't ask for feminine class. Hmpf. If they existed at all. No. Some power just wanted him to get the job done, to eat his fill. Life was good. The pay was good.

Admittedly, it was oddly satisfying to watch men of great heights shake before his stature, almost leaning into their armor for support. He'd watched it for countless generations now. Returning, only to watch the physical features appear in the successors many years down the line. It was an unrivaled content on his part to see such immortality in the eyes of mortals.

Somewhere though, he became too sure of himself. Somehow, he'd become too comfortable.

He forgot.

Humans weren't mindless all the time. There were some whose grunting and growling actually formed linear thoughts in primitive minds. They advanced, and thought, clearly believing in so-called equality. They really believed in their own words.

What fools, he would have said if he had known.

They had thought of conspiring against him. Not thought. _Had_ conspired against him. The fools went and allied themselves with the crudest of scavengers. Lame vampires, begrudging werewolves, and ageing faeries. Yes. They were all there. For his downfall.

To see him to his end.

Godric was perhaps a little flattered. Was he so much of a scourge that they had plotted to their wits' end?

Was he so frightening, so much of a heinous creature?

As the shock of the assaults from his former followers hit his body, the answers to his questions also did so. The ancient vampire couldn't help but smile.

What was the way of the world!

Continuously breaking down the ones they feared.

Fear, yes.

What a powerful emotion. He had seen emperors fall victim to it. Stabbed, decapitated, poisoned..all painful. Fear, had took them all.

But as Godric lay his body half bare to the mercy of the sun full of silver..he swore in his semi-conscious state, he would never let himself go out that way. He'd never let himself burn.

No creature alive or dead, would send him into the mouth of the True Death.

He'd conquer them all with the iron-grip that was fear.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: **Thank you for the faves, and follow guys! Means a lot to me. Special shout out to CatOl'DirtyCurtis for being the first reviewer for this story and ellaella for being the second. You guys are great thank you. I know it has been a while and this is a short chapter, but longer one next time! Promise.**

* * *

><p>He had taken enough blood from them to last a while.<p>

It was because of his consumption that even through his bemused state that he was able to escape. Run, was the right term, he'd later sneer to himself.

With his blood red fangs and his curses he would have seemed no less than a barbaric berzeker to them all. But Godric, ever theatrical continued to surprise his enemies.

Instead of running headlong into their open (and silvered) arms, he turned instead back into the throng of his former associates and began swiftly cutting down anyone in his path.

The camp was in an uproar made worse by the fact that Godric, somehow, ran rings around them, quite literally, to daze them or taunt them, before making sense of his own direction.

Ducking between foliage and rubble like a commoner, the vampire was forced to accept his weakness. Even a man of great means was a slave to the pitfalls of fate or such. If he had foreseen this, maybe he would've remembered to pack a faery or two for the heat _and_ the sunburn.

Perhaps, it was for the best though.

After all, he needed to know he wasn't _totally _invincible. Tactics needed to be re-evaluated, as new battle lines had been drawn.

Godric stopped for a millisecond as he re-evaluated his options. It was either fleeing to fight another day or totally annihilate the wolf pack that was encircling him now. He did both.

Grabbing the youthful unturned one, he snapped his neck cleanly to reveal the red elixir.

It was all over in a few moments. Having drank deeply from the shuddering boy and discarded his body into the clearing of the woods. Sure enough, the action was met by howling of his family within seconds. The scent of death bloomed into air, but it didn't matter to Godric. For he left it, at his heels .

* * *

><p>Godric paused only, when he felt the unrelenting rays of sun lighten on his neck and back. He was no fool, he knew he was burning. His skin, his authority, everything that he possibly was, appeared to be flying up towards the heavens. But he said nothing. His lips, his maker instinct stayed silent.<p>

Why should he call Eric? So he could see him weak and dying? No. Weakness was the state that no maker should show his protégé. Godric paused, glancing up at the sky through red raw eyelids and moss green leaves.

The gods knew he trusted Eric, more than he had ever trusted any other. After all, had the Viking not proved his worth? Of course he had.

But this is a matter of honour he mused, starting to speed not too gracefully out of the moist and blazing forest. He stopped to recess only for a few moments next to what seemed like a large white boulder.

Desperate as he was, his trapped mind began to piece together his location.

He was by some grace now on the white cliffs. Godric smiled thinly, and began to take a brief walk over to the unusually quiet cliff. He knew what he had to do.

_'Survive like a Roman. Always a Roman,_ ' was his last thought before he jumped off the cliff into the depths below.


End file.
